With a Thankful Heart
by Glistening Sun
Summary: An exploration into Sharon's faith as she deals with Andy's injury. Episode tag to 4x14.
1. With a Thankful Heart

**With a Thankful Heart - an episode tag to 4x14**

 **By Glistening Sun**

Sharon stepped into the dark church, her fingers dipping into the blessed water, the sign of the cross second nature to her. Unconsciously, she wiped her wet hand on her jacket and continued down the path between the pews towards the eternal light glowing in the distance.

She had been coming to church ever since she could remember, together with her grandmother, with her parents. They had gone to church not just to attend Mass, but for every occasion, to say thanks, to bid goodbye, to grieve. Today she was here to say thanks – unlike the night before when she had been here to plead with the Lord for the life of the man she loved.

The church smelled of candlewax and incense, familiar to her from the years she had watched her brothers serve as altar boys yearning to stand there herself. Then, that path had been closed to girls. She remembered vividly the first time Emily had served as an altar girl; her mother's heart bursting with pride at least until the moment when her little girl had passed out. Too hot, too stuffy. She had always felt that Emily had been relieved to find a way out of living her mother's dream without actually having to tell her. Ricky had served, too, with more cheek than was good for him once famously setting the Priest's soutane on fire. She was sure that had not been an accident.

Her steps echoed in the empty building as she let her hand trail over the wood of the pews. Once she reached the front she reverently knelt down and crossed herself once again. She sat down her eyes finding the large crucifix hanging suspended above the altar. The church she had grown up in had had a similar one and she remembered wondering how it could hang there. Maybe it was just another one of those many miracles her grandmother liked to tell her about: walking on water, feeding thousands, making a blind man see. Miracles.

She took a deep breath and knelt down, the wood hard under her knees. Today she had witnessed her very own miracle when Andy had woken up from his surgery, a smile lighting up his face when he recognised her. She had leaned in to kiss him not caring that there were other people in the room and for a moment, the world had disappeared around them. She closed her eyes and rested her head on her folded hands, her lips moving in a silent prayer of gratitude.

Peace. That was why she had come here last night and so many times during the past weeks since Andy's accident. Peace that surpassed all human understanding. Peace that surrounded her no matter how busy the world around her was. Peace that gave her the strength to go on and face another day. Peace that filled her heart with joy and confidence in the life that lay before her. Peace.

She didn't know how long she had been kneeling there, but her knees were numb when she finally got up, crossed herself and walked over to the side chapel. She picked up one of the small candles and lit it from one of those already burning. She watched its bright flame, the image swimming before her eyes when the tears held in over weeks finally fell.

Andy was alive and he would recover. All the candles in this church would never be enough to express her gratitude for that.


	2. A Woman's Hands

**With a Thankful Heart - Chapter 2  
**

 **By Glistening Sun**

The flames of the candles blurred before her eyes creating a warm soft light through her tears. Sharon didn't know how long she had been sitting there silently crying, tears dropping onto her folded hands. They had a future now. What seemed to be in danger of being cut short was now wide open. There were dangers still. Andy could have another clot, he could get injured again at work – as could she. But for now they had a future, their lives no longer hung in the balance depending on a small drop of coagulated blood.

Slowly she became aware of movement nearby. It wasn't unusual. She wasn't by far the only one who frequented the church. She took a deep breath and wiped the tears off her cheeks noticing the dark remnants of make-up on her fingers. Another deep and cleansing breath, the candles coming into focus again. The warm light and the scent of wax gave her comfort.

He was alive!

She took a handkerchief from her purse and dapped away the rest of the tears. She felt clean, and whole. Sharon wasn't one to cry, and when she did it was out of relief more often than sadness. A weight had been lifted off her heart and she felt light. Now that the worry about Andy had receded, all those other emotions were coming back making her heart beat faster, pulling at the corners of her mouth until she felt her lips curving into a smile, the skin of her cheeks taut from crying. Her eyes found the beautiful stained glass window that had long been her favourite.

How many times had she knelt in this church over the past decades? It was were she had come upon first moving to Los Angeles, so young then, recently married and full of dreams. She had knelt here and offered a rather dutiful prayer of thanks for her pregnancy while she had been scared out of her mind. Too soon for motherhood. She had come here with her newborn daughter, the prayer of thanks no longer born out of duty, but out of heartfelt joy. She had knelt in this place full of anticipation when Jack had agreed to go to rehab and had come back only a few days later in despair because he had succumbed to his addictions. When her father had fallen ill not long after that missed Christmas in Park City she had fervently prayed in this same space and had grieved him throughout the following winter. She had sought guidance here in the early days of Rusty's stay with her, prayed for patience and wisdom in dealing with the boy in whom she had seen so much even then and she couldn't remember now many times she had been here when the danger from Stroh had threatened to overwhelm her. And Andy … it was here that she had first admitted to herself that she wanted to be more than just his friend, here that the feeling in her heart had formed into a thought. Love.

Sharon looked down at her hands, folded once again in a gesture that centred her and grounded her. Her fingers were no longer as straight as they once had been, her skin had collected wrinkles – the hands of a woman in her late fifties. Her mother used to say that hands always told a story. Hands that had cradled her crying Ricky who had vehemently protested his baptism, hands that seemed to still bear the mark of a wedding ring they had worn for decades, hands that held a gun and had taken more than one life saving many more. Her hands were old now, no longer the youthful ones of years ago. She liked them, because they told the story of her life. Small scars from cutting herself learning to cook food for her growing family. A larger one from when she had fallen off the ladder while decorating the Christmas tree in the middle of the night, alone, because Jack had one again failed to make good on his promises. Hands that were cold except when Andy held them in his warm ones. The polish on her right index finger was chipped just slightly and she shook her head at herself. She had simply been too busy to take care of herself these past week, but that she should even notice something so unimportant, so mundane was a clear sign her contemplative mood was over.

Smirking she stood up, not as fluently as she once would have, but managing without a groan despite the ache in her knees. Gosh, it wasn't just her hands that were getting old! When she turned around the church was no longer empty. People had started coming in for Evening Mass. She checked her watch and decided that she would allow herself this time - another hour to spend in this place of peace, caught in memories and grateful for how rich her life was.

Walking through the pews she nodded at a few familiar faces and when her parish priest Father Patrick raised an eyebrow in askance she gave him a thumbs up.


	3. Candlewax and Incense

**With a Thankful Heart – Chapter 3**

 **By Glistening Sun**

When the sound of the organ filled the church, she felt herself draw a deep breath. The fist that had clamped down on her chest those past few weeks had disappeared. Her voice was a little shaky at first, but by the second verse it was back to its full strength, the familiar vibrations filling her body. She had never been able to sing when upset and when small that was how her mother had been able to tell when her private little girl needed a little extra prodding to give up what was troubling her. Today her voice was strong and she sang freely, her alto resonating among the many voices. An elderly lady a few pews in front of her turned around and smiled.

Unlike among the altar boys, girls had been welcome in the choir and she had started with the children, graduating through the choirs, until she had been among those who stood on the gallery on Easter morning and Midnight Mass. She knew the songs by heart and she sang with her eyes closed, a smile playing on her face.

Following the familiar pattern of the liturgy she stood up and knelt, her lips automatically moving to form the words. In her head she recited the traditional Latin words she had grown up with, her breathing becoming deep and regular. It had been her grandfather, and then her father who had insisted the children learn the translations long before the church ever started using them.

Only when she heard the joyful chime of the sanctus bell did she open her eyes, taking a moment to focus on the priest celebrating mass.

"Ms Raydor," Father Patrick greeted her afterwards.

She smirked at the younger man, "How many times do I have to tell you it's Sharon, Father?"

"Only if you call me Paddy," the priest retorted and they both laughed. Father Patrick, or Paddy as he she had called him for most of his life, was only a few years older than her children. His younger sister had danced with Emily, and his mother Nora and Sharon had taken turns driving the girls to ballet classes and recitals. Sharon still remembered the surprise when Paddy had announced his calling for the priesthood, but now, two decades later, he had come into his own and there was no doubt he had chosen the right path. Initially, Sharon had doubted how much she should confide in the Father who had once been the boy whose scraped knees she tended to. It had taken her a few years, but throughout Andy's illness Father Patrick had been the pillar she leaned on.

"You do look like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders." A weight that had borne down on her heavily the last time they talked, when she had been distraught and worried, when instead of improving Andy's health had seemed to get worse, when she had allowed herself to think about what could have happened if Rusty hadn't been there, when she had sat in the Father's study, weak, and broken, and scared and he had prayed with her.

She smiled, "Thank you for not letting me loose faith, Father."

/

Her steps were light and her heart felt even lighter when she exited the church and pulled her jacket more tightly around herself. December evenings could be chilly even in LA and she sighed gratefully when she turned on the heating in her car. It was late, but not too late yet for another visit to the hospital. For the first time in weeks she made the trip there without a dark cloud hanging over her. They had a future now, and there were words she needed to say to Andy she had previously lacked the courage to say, maybe not today, but soon. She wondered idly whether he might beat her to it. She had stopped him earlier in the day because she hadn't wanted those words spoken in haste, or under the impression of the impending surgery.

Andy was sitting up in bed reading with his glasses perched somewhat precariously on his nose when she quietly pried open the door to his room and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. She closed the door and he looked up at the sound, his eyes finding hers over the rim of his glasses. There was a small band-aid on side of neck, an IV still in his hand, but the smile on his face and the knowledge that the worst was behind them made up for all that. She closed the distance with a few quick strides and perched herself on the bed, close enough so their bodies were touching.

They had kissed earlier when he had woken up from the surgery and she had held his hand as he dozed, but now he was awake and there was a cheeky smile spreading over his face.

"I haven't been cleared to go back to work yet, but there's one thing I've been cleared to do."

Her heart was beating against her ribs when Andy put a hand on the back of her neck and gently guided her towards him for a kiss, his lips soft and pliant and oh so very alive. And then she felt it: he was holding her! Gosh, how she had missed this! His strong arms wrapped securely around her, holding her tight and keeping her safe, his body warm and his heart beating in tune with her own. A sigh escaped her that turned into a hum when one of his hands found its way into her hair.

"You were in church," he whispered into her temple after they had ended their kiss and her head was resting in the crook of his neck, "Your hair smells like candlewax and incense."


End file.
